The share of Carolina Pavlova, as well as the share of her senior and younger contemporaries in poetry, fell, it would seem that the completeness, harmony and the universality of world perception with a spiritual split, which bequeathed by the "Golden Age" with a spiritual split, hopeless contradictory and wasolation of the individual consciousness brought In Russian life "Age of Iron". This is the main content of the spiritual life of the era and found an original expression in verses of Pavlova Russian poets. Anthology of Russian poetry in 6 t. - Moscow: Children's literature, 1996. T. 5. S. 175 .. Its poetry characterizes the clash, the confrontation of dreams and reality, the olderness and current disappointments, mind and heart, poetry and life:
About the past, about the dead, about the old
The thought of a mute soul;
I met a lot in my life,
I spent a lot of feelings in vain
Many victims brought a lot of victims.
I walked again after each mistake,
Forgetting a cruel lesson,
Unappropriate in everyday scholars:
Faith in tears, words and smiles
My heart could not eat mind.
To a certain extent, Pavlova's way in the literature was typical for the selection of Russian poets. Contemporaries of grandiose socio-political explosions, they entered into a duel with life insights of encyclopedic knowledge not only in the field of the history of world civilization, the history of the takeoffs and falls of human culture and morality, unprecedented unimaging the human mind, but also stunning their monotony and numerous misconceptions of him, - Without any distinct idea of \u200b\u200bthe state of affairs in the present, therefore, about the historical perspective.
The maiden name Pavlova was Janish. She was born in the family of Russified German, a doctor, a teacher of the Moscow Medical and Surgical Academy. Despite the constraint of the family in the means, Carolina received a good home upbringing. At an early age, she discovered an extraordinary giftedness in everything that concerned languages \u200b\u200band verbal sciences. Early began writing poems (first in German and French). The great German scientist and traveler Alexander Humboldt, who became acquainted with Carolina Yanish in 1829 in Moscow, was delighted with both her common knowledge and early verses. The manuscript of her poems and translations of A. Humboldt took with him to show I. V. Guete himself. According to the daughter-in-law of the great poet, her "the father-in-law has always kept this notebook at his desk."
Young Carolina Yanish received recognition in the Moscow literary circle. The center of the cultural life of the ancient capital at that time was the Salon of Princess 3. A. Volkonskaya. She had Pushkin, Vesevitinov, Baratinsky, Delvig, Pogodin, Shevyrev, Kozlov, Chaadaev and others. Here, nineteen-year-old Carolina met with an outstanding Polish poet Adam Mitskevich. The man of exceptional tissues, a brilliant improviser, a brilliant interlocutor, a citizen in the full sense of the word, besides surrounded by the halo of exhaustion, he made an indelible impression on the girl, which turned into love, and soon and for a long time - in deep, strong and even love. Mitskevich made her an offer. Father did not prevent her daughter. However, the rich uncle of her, from which the future of the whole family depended, was resolutely against. The girl herself brought her sense of sacrificing a sense of debt to his family.
In 1837, Carolina Karlovna married the famous Russian Prosaik N. F. Pavlova. By this time, she had already become rich (uncle, the fatal manifestation of her marriage with Mitskevich, died and left her a significant inheritance). Outwardly, everything was developed safely: a talented woman decided to tie his fate with a writer who made him talk about himself all the reading Russia. Those of Pavlov - "Name Day", "Auction," "Yatagan,", "Auction," "Name Day", "Auction", "Yatagan" - brought him the glory of the best Russian Belletrist. However, Nikolai Filippovich was not quite uncanyten in his feeling towards Carolina Karlovna. According to the evidence of contemporaries, he married for the calculation. The gap between them became inevitable. In addition, this small family crack is fatally corrected with a big split in the then literary and public life.
The fierce controversy, which unfolded in the 1840s between Slavophiles and Westerns, became one of the acute manifestations of hidden fermentation of the mind, which made himself felt in the first decade after the December uprising.
Monumental artistic incarnation Elitar view of poetess on history receives in one of its most powerful creatures - a programmatic poem "Triyanone" (1848). Poetic rhetoric K. Pavlova, who imposed, in the opinion of contemporaries and descendants, a characteristic imprint on all her work, celebrates its true triumph here. Count Caliostro, who protruding the mouthpiece of its own ideas, in the wording with the Count Mirabo (which is conducted on the eve of the revolution of 1789), expresses thoughts, in separate parties, perhaps, acceptable for both Slavophiles, and for Westerners, but in general, strange, even alien, perhaps , and those and others.
Just as the "conversation in the trianone" became a response to the revolutionary events of 1848, the other of its software poem, "conversation in the Kremlin" (1854), was published under the thunder accompaniment of the Crimean War, which had not only Russian actually, but also the most powerful pan-European resonance. Individualism of Western civilization here is opposed to moral and religious unity, "Cathedral" began the beginning of Russian lifefriend. Pavlova is chasing the names and cases of Princess Olga, Dmitry Donskoy, goat minina, Prophia Lyapunov, Peter I. But at that time, when the Russian shame in the Crimean War became an obvious fact, poetic poignicon shadows needed to build not as a challenge of the West, but how to reproach Modern Russia. The civil beginning in this high Slavovia Pavlova was to prevail over prestigious considerations.
As if feeling that the "conversation in the Kremlin" does not cover all the complexity of the problems of Russian life, Pavlova in the 1850s is immersed in the element of intimate lyrics. Her verses of this period differ not so much emotional or expressive, how many research penetration and reliability.
We strangely agreed. Memory cabin circle
In an empty conversation,
We are like an ear, not knowing each other,
Rodality guess ...
Walking hard with public nonsense,
Joking Misery Slis
We suddenly curious, attentive eyes
Looking at each other in the face.
Lyrics became not only a way of artistic self-expression (as in early verses) or beliefs (as in the "conversation in the trianone" and in the "conversation in the Kremlin"), but also in the way of artistic knowledge of themselves and others. Loving gaze was at the same time "curious" and "careful".
Deep psychological analysis is an integral feature of the best samples of love lyrics of the middle of the XIX century. At that time, when in the work of Dostoevsky, Lion Tolstoy, Turgenev, Goncharov was formed by the Russian socio-psychological novel, Tyutchev, Nekrasov, Apollo Grigoriev, Polonsky, Fet in his love lyrics, like our great prose, they fixed "curious, attentive eyes" in The inner world of a modern man, exploring the whole depth of his heartless trouble, showing the life of tormented by contradictions, and sometimes the crushed spirit in all her terrifying reliability.
Pavlova belongs to this series of a special place - due to the innate ability to look at his mental experience, it dismissed, as the impassive observer looks.
Yes, I'm soul now healthy,
Recent Duma there is no trace in it;
Like a person to me someone else's
I remember myself sometimes.
This urgent result, to which Pavlov came in his love lyrics, was experiencing much more dramatic, which, starting from the second half of the 1850s, its popularity in the literature decreases. Moving abroad in 1856 he consolidated that already, in essence, was accomplished - the loss of Pavlova from literary and public life. Living in Dresden, she is engaged in translations of Russian poets to German and French.
However, she did not cease to monitor what was happening in Russia. The poem "on the liberation of peasants" (1862) was one of the latest Pavlova's poetic responses to social and political events. At first, it makes an impression of rhetorical: in fact, what seemed to be generally refined poetess in fate with the fate of Russian men and women? The first storms of the poem and the retelling of ancient Romanian legend are really given to the declamination.
However, only reading the ballad to the end, the reader begins to understand that the entire story was not at the expense that the dangerous and long path of the Roman slave could be likened to the century-old road of the Russian peasant to their liberation. Roman fun resumed in Russia. The Russian slave is already undergoing dangers and inhuman ridicule. The main thing in the final is the answer to the question: what is still nothing he is trying to convey, not dropping and not breaking, on the public altar?
Carries, striking, fatal,
The mysterious good of he
He is understanding the holy -
Freedom of future times.
The debauchered spectators of the Russian "widespread collage", flying over the stored slave, inhuman and godless. But he, while maintaining his moral experience and the concept of freedom, he saves not only herself, but also them. At this point, the fate of refined poets and merges with the fate of the people. After all, it was so important for her, it was so important to carry through the life and literary arena "the fatal, mysterious" wear, "to understand the holy" about the liberation mission of poetry, which she learned in the Pushkin "golden age". That is why the most penetrated and strong in all of her legacy are poems about poetry. This is in the full sense of the word beautiful and mobility verses:
You, surviving in the heart of the back
Hi, my sad verse!
My light beam above the ash
Hope and joys of mine!
One thing that is sacred
Touch in the temple could not:
My attack, my wealth!
My holy craft!
"You, who survived in the heart of the back
Hello to you, my sad verse! "
July 22 - 210 years since the birth of Russian poetess Carolina Pavlova (1807-1893). Rarely, who from modern readers is familiar to her name, and meanwhile in the last century she was very popular, her name was all on hearing. She was the hostess of the most popular poetic salon in Moscow. Back in the late 30s of the nineteenth century, she struck the literary public with a statement: "I am not a poetess, I am a poet!". Long before Anna Akhmatova and Marina Tsvetaeva, who was in turn attributed the championship of this statement. Igor Severnanin believed that Carolina Pavlova was a small pearl in the crown of Russian poetry. In the choir of poetry, Carolina Pavlov has its own note, his melody, and the song, sonorous and bright, captivates special intonations, worries the confession of female lyricism. The names of the poets revealed by contemporaries once again opened the poets symbolists at the turn of the century, and Sofia Garnik saw her parallel with her own personal and literary fate: " But by a contemporary, having lived, Pavlova Prababka became glorious».
Carolina Yanish was born 22 (10) July 1807 in Yaroslavl, in the family of the Russo German. Father, Karl Ivanovich Yanish, was educated at the University of Leipzig and was a famous doctor. A year later, he was given a place at the Department of the Moscow Medical and Surgical Academy, where he taught chemistry and physics, the family moved to Moscow. Mother Carolina, was half a polka, half russian. From the side of the mother among the ancestors of the girl were the French and the British. Father provided daughters a wonderful home education. He was fond of painting, astronomy, literature. I enjoyed myself with my only child. She helped his father in his astronomical surveys. Carolina already in his youth freely owned German (language of home communication) and French (language of light and culture). Easily collapsed English, later learned Spanish. Very capable, she perfectly owned six European languages, in these languages \u200b\u200bshe wrote her first poems. Then she began to translate Russian poetry. It was very read, drawn well. Discipline of internal labor, early the developmental ability to control itself was characterized by its character. Carolina early began writing poetry and translate.
The first impressions of Carolina about Moscow are associated with the events of 1812. Another girl, just 5 years old, but in memory of the vibrant the fire of Moscow, which ruined many, and among these many of her family. The spectacle of burned Moscow left in the shower of the girl an indelible mark. Much later, she devoted a large beautiful poem burned by Moscow:
Moscow! On the days of fear and sadness
Keeping sacred love
No wonder you were given
We are our life, we are our blood.
No wonder in the battle of the Giant
People came to lay down chapter
And fell in the plain Borodino,
Having said: "Verify, God, Moscow!
The outstanding abilities of Young Carolina, her deep knowledge in the literature distinguished the girl from the peer. Not that she does not love balls and secular life, but it was more interesting to her among poets and musicians. The educated and talented girl paid attention to A. P. Elagin - Noney V. A. Zhukovsky, and she introduced it to the famous Literary and Music Salon Zinaida Volkonskaya. There, she immediately turned attention and became famous as "the girls gifted by the most diverse and most unusual talents." She did not just adorned the honorable society, but participated in conversations on a par with mastitis writers. Permanent visitors to the salon were A. S. Pushkin, E. A. Baratsky, P. Ya. Chaadaev, P. A. Vyazemsky, D. V. Davydov, D. V. V. V. V. V. V. V. V. V. Venevitinov and other wonderful poets, writers, musicians. High, thin, talented Carolina Yanish turned the attention of the Baratyan, Language, Vyazemsky, Pushkin, they devoted her poems.
But the main meeting in her fate ended in drama. Once Carolina came later than the designated time. All enthusiastically listened to the improviser. The stranger declared poems in French. On the pale face with fire flames huge eyes. "Mitskevich, Polish exile," - presented to her a stranger. Arrested in 1823 for participating in the secret student organization, which fought for the liberation of Poland, and spent six months in conclusion, he was sent to the internal provisions of Russia. Having lived a few months in Odessa and St. Petersburg, in 1825 came to Moscow. Mitskevich produced an indelible impression on a romantic girl, thirsty for love. He was her older than nine years old, was not afraid of himself, it is already famous, and not only with his verses, but also with his junk, which made him completely irresistible in the eyes of a romantic girl. Carolina fell in love. Biographers write that she has shown inappropriate resourcefulness, simplifying the Father to invite Mitskevich to teach her Polish. Meetings were not limited to lessons. They had a common idol - Schiller. They are in vain read each other. Mitskevich had an unsurpassed gift of the improviser. Under the short accompaniment of his student Adam inspired improvised on a given topic. At these moments he was delightful. When Carolina, who made progress in Polish, could read the poet in the original, Mitskevich introduced her with his poem "Konrad Wallerrod", whose hero sacrifice the personal for the common good. The admiration of Mitskevich-poet, compassion for his fate of the exile, the charm of his beautiful appearance was fed by the love of Carolina. Not left indifferent to his student and Adam Mitskevich. His admiration for her talents turned into a more romantic feeling: on November 10, 1828, the poet asked the hands of Carolina Yanish.
Father did not objection, but ... was not rich. Education of the daughter, her upbringing, all its future depended on a rich relative, uncle Carolina. And this rich childless elderly Mister in his own way understood the happiness of the lovedies. He was ready to ensure the life of Carolina and her family, but provided that it will not connect their future with the poor, who are suspected of a government with an unknown poet. Carolina offered his beloved to run together - for the sake of him, she was no doubt was to sacrifice the family and honor, and the usual comfort! But Mitskevich refused - whether his love for Carolina was not so all-consuming, or he really regretted the romantician girl ... The girl "decided to do, as a sense of duty suggested" (so she explained his act later), and did not accept proposals. Mitskevich went to St. Petersburg.
Circumstances did not allow him to quickly return to Moscow, which he regret reports in a letter to her father. With the letter, he sent the Carolina two volumes of the Paris publication of his poems of 1823. In the second volume wrote: " Karolina Janis devotes her former teacher of Polish Language A. Mitskevich. 1828, December 25" For long winter evenings, Karolina read the poems of Adam Mitskevich, translated the poem "Konrad Valentrod". Time went, hoped melted. She decided on the letter: " I can't continue to make such a long unknown ... Ten months passed since your departure ... I was convinced that I could not live without the Duma about you, I was convinced that my life would always be a chain of memories about you, Mitskevich! Whatever happens, my soul belongs only to you alone. If I am destined to live for you, then my life is buried, but I will demolish the bad"(February 19, 1829)
He returned a year later. Carolina was still in love with him. Uncle has not insisted as firmly on his ban. But Mitskevich realized that his feeling for her was not love, but a passion, and offered her friendship. The next day, after explanation, Carolina sent a farewell letter to Mitskevich - he left Moscow and soon intended to leave Russia. " Hello to you, my dear. Thank you again for everything. For your friendship, for your love ... I am happy and now, parting with you, perhaps, forever; And at least we have never been destined to be dated, I will always be convinced that for the better for both of us ... Whatever happens in the future, life will be pleasant for me: I will often search in the depths of my heart of precious memories of you , I will be happy to go through them, because they are all for me - a diamond of pure water. Good bye, my friend!"Mitskevich answered her the poem" for memory of Panna Yanish ":
When the span birds rushing
From winter storms and blizzard, and moan in the embroidery,
Do not condemn them, friend! In the spring, birds will return
Familiar to them by the desired side.
Barely hope will shine in my fate
On the wings of joy, I do not feel quickly from the south
Again to the north, again to you!
They never met anymore. Did not correspond. Carolina closed the door to the past, while leaving no hope of himself. Six years later she learned about Mitzkevich's marriage. Carolina loved him always, and thirteen years after their unsuccessful engagement, November 10, 1840, being already married to the other, wrote:
Did you feel silent?
How hurt the heart treated
In your life, I took my life,
Lit is the minute
Medium changed Castle?
Love K. Pavlova to the Polish poet remained the most cherished memories. Already at the end of life, when she was over eighty, she drenched the strength and consolation in the memoirs of youth: " Memories of this love and accommodation is happiness for me. Time, instead of weakening, only strengthened this love. I remember gratefully about the blessed day when he asked me if I wish you to be his wife. He always stands in front of me as alive. For me, he did not stop living. I love him, never ceased to love him all the time" It was necessary to live, be strong. Easy, of course, write about it, and how to survive?!
When in a discord with himself
My mind is powerless immersed,
When it lies on it sometimes
Dust-celebrated semi
Then she sews suddenly
Then he sounds in my chest
Some feedback sad and sweet
Distant feelings, distant days.
Carolina Karlovna has changed very much. It became even more restrained, even more loved the privacy, work. She became known in literary circles. Blown among the Moscow literary elite. It was familiar with Pushkin and Vyazemsky, was friends with Language and Baratyan. Poetic talent K. K. Pavlova is developing under the influence of Pushkin's poetry and the poets of his circle; Her poems meet approval from one of the most famous poets of that time - E. A. Baratynsky. Later in the message to him, Pavlova wrote about that important, perhaps, the decisive role he played in her literary fate:
You called me a poet
My verse careless love
And I, bent of your light.
Then she believed.
In the 1820s - 1830s, K. Pavlova translates Pushkin's poems, N. M. Language and other modern Russian poets into German and French, its translations are highly appreciated by contemporaries and authors themselves. " You beat the simple sounds of my strings on gold strings."," Wrote to her, thanks to the transfer of his poems to German, N. M. Languages. Despite secular popularity, the girl threatened the fate of the old Virgin. She was not beautiful, with a complex character. But - Rich Heiress: Uncle died, who traded her all the fortune. Yanishi was given a big dowry for her daughter, it was often swallowed. But Carolina denied everyone. In 1836, Carolina was already twenty-nine years old, she desperately wait for Mitskevich someday. Listening to the prayers of the parents, Carolina agreed to marry the next seeker of her hand: the writers of Nikolai Filippovich Pavlova, hoping to find a friend who understood. But her hopes were deceived.
Nikolai Pavlov was primarily not a creative, but a sacrificial person, a player and a man deeply irresponsible. True, he enjoyed respect in society as a person with freedom-loving ideas, author of a prohibited novel, implanting serfdom. What seemed to Caroline very attractive. So at first the relationship of the spouses were quite warm, and if the love between them did not happen, then friendship was undoubtedly. They had a son. Although only one, and he gave the Carolina too expensive. Doctors recommended her no longer have children in order not to jeopardize his life. The spouse takes advantage of this with understanding, since he did not give it to Carolina with an extremely passion. Since then, they lived under one roof as friends and spent the night in different bedrooms. Nikolai Pavlov played and cleaned the state of his wife, but for some time the damage was not particularly noticeable, and Carolina did not prevent her husband in his fun, and he did not let her .
After leaving Zinaida Volkonskaya in Italy, Carolina Pavlova's salon became the largest and most popular in Moscow. There are talking about literature, art, politics, acute disputes between Wessengers and Slavophiles are being conducted. Among the permanent guests it was also possible to meet Herzen with Ogarov, and Granovsky, and Shevyreva, and Homyakov, Chaadaeva, and the family then Feta. Here appeared Aksakov, Gogol, Grigorovich, Herzen, Baratinsky, Polonsky. Before the second link to the Caucasus, Mikhail Lermontov, depressed and sad. In the literary life of Moscow of the 1840s, Salon K. K. Pavlova was one of the centers of the spiritual life of those years, and the owner of the salon successfully coped with his difficult role. The contemporary describes it so: " In Granovsky, I met K. K. Pavlov and heard the reading of her poems, which she just composed and read at his visit. In the conversation, she constantly inserted storms of poems in German from Goethe, from Bairon - in English, from Dante - in Italian, and in Spanish, he led some proverb. She spoke more with Granovsky than with us. Pavlova was no longer young and ugly, very slender, but with majestic manners».
The famous visitors to her poetic gift were most likely and condescendingly, rather and enthusiastically - as she dreamed. But for Carolina, poetry was all - the purpose and meaning of life: " My attack, my wealth, my holy craft!"She reflected a lot over the theme of creativity in general and female creativity in particular. Half of her verses is devoted to these topics. Then the literary reputation of Pavlova is also reputable. Her poems, stories and translations were regularly printed in Russian magazines of 1830-1850s and had success. Especially great its merit in the field of translations. It is hardly the first began to translate the writings of Russian writers to spread abroad. Back in 1831, she translated into German several poems Pushkin, Batyushkova and Vyazemsky, sent the text to the Berlin Journal - and unexpectedly received a good incentive letter from Germany. A signature stood under the letter: "Johann Wolfgang Goethe."
The peak of the literary creativity of Carolina Pavlova was the publication of her poems in the "domestic notes", which caused the enthusiastic review of Belinsky, who called the verse of Pavlova "Diamond": " In addition to the two beautiful poems of Lermontov, in V ќ "Domestic Notes" there are four wonderful poems of Ms. Pavlova: "Unknown Poet", original; "Mint's oath" and "Glenara" - Scottish ballads, one V. Scott, another of Cambally; "Understand love" from Ryukret. The amazing talent of Ms. Pavlova (nee Yanish) to translate poems from all the languages \u200b\u200bknown to her all the languages \u200b\u200bknown to her begin, finally acquire universal fame. This year, its translations from different languages \u200b\u200bwere published in French, called "Les Preludes", - and we could not put as I knew how the gifted translator was able to transfer to this poor, anti-ethical and figured language of noble ease, strength, compression and poetic The charm of the "commander" is one of the best poems of Pushkin. But even better (due to the language) its translations into Russian; Make yourself of this compression, this courageous energy, the noble simplicity of these diamond poems, diamonds and but the fortresses and on the brilliance of the poetic».
In 1848, the Roman Pavlova "Double Life" was published, written by verses and prose, telling about the unfortunate fate of the modern aristocrats, forced to marry without love and lead a double life. The novel was adopted with interest, but it was the last success in the life of Carolina. Next began a failure band. Life did not work out. Very different were spouses: the judgmental Carolina Karlovna and her husband - a player and the ILO. She suffered a lot for the sake of his son, but, having learned that Nikolai Filippovich had the second family, he decided to leave him. The husband also played and drank and drank, practically distorted all her condition, and over 1000 souls of serfs and an estimated mansion in the prestigious area of \u200b\u200bMoscow were listed behind it. In response, Pavlov broke out with insults and ridicule to his wife, insulted and ridiculed her poetic ambitions. Nikolai Filippovich did not hide his true attitude towards his wife. He admitted one day, which made a nasty, marrying without love, "on the money." And ruthlessly spent them, lost in the card, did debts.
Carolina could not stand and complained to father. He took advantage of all his connections and shook the unworthy son-in-law. At first, Nikolai Pavlovich was put in a debt prison, the so-called "pit", which was located in the premises of the former royal animal. Carolina refused to pay on his debt toplicity and filed a divorce. The society was indignant already then: it would seem that I should have to pay the debts of the son-in-law from your funds from your resources and not bring the case to prison and scandal? The famous Moscow Sobolevsky's Moscow is even broke out impromptu, which was immediately picked up by many lips and became popular:
Ah, wherever you can see
All love grave!
Mussel Mamzel Yanish
I planted in the pit ...
The petition about the divorce was satisfied, her former name was returned to Carolina ... When, at the request of Carolina, after the arrest, her husband conducted a revision of her condition and property, it turned out that Nikolai Pavlov left her practically: all movable and immovable property was laid and restained. Together with the child she settled by the parents and lived on their funds. The military governor of Moscow Zavrevsky received a complaint against Pavlov. He was searched, found a "polar star". The writer was arrested and exiled to Perm. In Nikolaev times, any person in Russia, who has freedom-loving ideas or somehow opposing the authorities, was built into the rank of martyr. And if he was punished for his ideas and speeches, like Nikolai Pavlov, "Martyrs" began to read as the national hero, however, he would neither in privacy. Pavlov, barely exiled, everyone in society began to sympathize.
Universal contempt collapsed on Carolina. Think - played! Repeated to the thread! Think - changed! If Caroline persuaded the father to pay the debts of her husband, did not file for divorce, Pavlova would not arrest, did not put on a debt prison, he would not find forbidden literature and he would not have been expelled. Recently, no one recalled the literary exicesis of Pavlov, and now suddenly remembered. And Carolina with her verses literally toured by eating criticism. Those who recently read the honor of being invited to her salon, they didn't even even crossed her at the meeting. Even friends left her. To remain in Moscow, Carolina could not. Accompanied by Mother and Son of the poetess left abroad, to Derpt. And here Solva does not spare her: left the patient of his father. Father soon died of cholera.
In the German city, Derpte Carolina met Alexey Konstantinovich Tolstoy. They became friends. Tolstoy highly appreciated her creativity - and for Carolina it became a genuine balm on the wounds. She herself literally fell in love with the work of Tolstoy and translated into German many of his poems and ballads, the drama "Tsar Fyodor John", "Death of John Grozny". Her efforts in Germany were published by A. K. Tolstoy's books: "Death of John Grozny", "Tsar Fedor John", the poem "Don Juan". Carolina Pavlova translated into German two plays of Alexey Konstantinovich Tolstoy, who wanted to put theater in Weimara. A. K. Tolstoy, its translations considered "riding perfection" and supported the poetess financially and morally until his death in 1875.
She worked a lot, traveled, hoped to meet his first and only love, with Adam Mitskevich, just at that time traveled. Even went to Constantinople when I heard that Mitskevich temporarily settled there. Perhaps she hoped that in his heart there were still alive feelings for her ... that they would still be able to reunite and be happy ... She could not meet with Mitskevich, the poet was openly avoided his former beloved. Karolina became acquainted with the Russian student-lawyer Boris Duck, who was younger than twenty years old, very far from poetry and romance, but was able to touch on the soul and the imagination of poetess. Carolina was not in love with Utina. He worried her. She dedicted to him poems. And many in the society gossoves that Pavlova took himself a young lover like the scandalous George Sand. Most likely, they were just good friends. In her verses to Boris, there is not a word about love or passion - unlike her poems to Mitskevich, - but there are many people talking about the relative proximity of two single souls, suddenly met and who have seen each other among the bustle of indifferent light ...
And in the sky met sadly,
Among the Skitnya of your
Two irreplicable lights
And they understood their relationship.
And, maybe from the north and from the south
Leads their secret love
In space to seek each other again
Welcome to each other again.
Carolina returned to Moscow a few more times, but it was simply impossible to live in Russia: the society did not forgive her ill-fated history with the arrest of Pavlov, and, besides, it was already objectively imposed on the poems and irrelevant and did not have success. In addition, Carolina wrote several historical poems with loyal sentiments and supported the Crimean campaign, and the progressive public did not forgive her. If about Pavlova and recalled literary criticism, then only in a dismissive tone: they say for whom this Madame writes and what's the point in her work, if she does not encourage and does not expose? Carolina answered his critics:
And written them, visible on the nature
Unnecessary and stupid work;
For yourself and others on trouble.
In 1858, Pavlova returned to Moscow for a long time to leave his homeland forever. She leaving Dresden. In voluntary exile, she had to live 35 not the easiest years. In 1863, in Moscow, friends publish a collection of her poems, he passed almost unnoticed. Pavlova and abroad work a lot. In his work, she acts as a true successor of the Pushkin era literature. Carolina does not imitate Pushkina, does not use his artistic means, believing that his style, his "Golden gun", as she says, only him, but she learned his main covenant to a writer: to be faithful to her time. But the image and name of Pushkin are constantly present in its reflections and works. According to the memoirs of the younger contemporary K. K. Pavlova, she, "living in the interests of his youth," loved with him in the evenings "Distribute ... Soul in endless stories about Pushkin, Mitskevich, Baratyan, in the analysis of their poems." She continues to translate the works of Russian authors into German. Day after day she expected a happy turn of her fate, but the next turn again offered her tests. Pavlova carefully followed the events in Russia. The leaving of the peasants responded to verses, but it was difficult to write away from the homeland, where she had already begun to forget. Parents died. The son, with which she had never had mental intimacy, left. I had to survive Adam Mitskevich, who deceased from cholera in 1855 in Constantinople.
1890th. Carolina Karlovna is the 83rd year. The age spared her: the same slim high figure, solid gait, the same beautiful eyes. Unless black curls touched the patina time. Carolina Karlovna lived secluded under Dresden. He worked a lot, wrote, was engaged in translations. Dresden almost did not leave. Nobody visited her. Lonely, everyone's alien, Pavlova ruthless in verses:
I look from the terrace. Dal shoe
The whole glows like in gold smoke;
Topaz sparks are full of the gray river;
Takes steamer to the people of the darkness,
A pack of a deck to the edge;
Their persons do not discern, and why?
Where am I alien to people and places,
Where I can not say the word
Where I will not give me a soul
Where far from the edge I native
Where not to be what was there ...
She received a letter from Vladislav Mitskevich, who asked to send his father's letters. Carolina Karlovna did not immediately decide to answer. She again and again shouted the albums, re-read the letters, again, as if for the first time, he considered the ring, once presented to them. What to write?! " We never corresponded. I wrote to him only two letters that you know. He never wrote me ... I have only one of his letter to my father ... This letter I send you ..."The end of the letter was piercing:" The third day, April 18, passed sixty years from the day when I was last seen who sketched this letter, and he is still alive in my thoughts. In front of me, his portrait, and on the table a small vase from Luggy clay, presented to me; On your finger, I wear the ring that he gave me. For me, he did not stop living. I love him today, as Lubricated in so many years of separation. He is mine, as he was once ...»
Loneliness and need became her companions. And memories. From the once significant state of the parents, almost nothing remained - mostly by the efforts of her former husband ... In the end, the moment came when urban life became too expensive for Carolina, she could no longer rent an apartment and buy foods with an inevitable markup. I had to move to the village of Hlostervitz, where she took off the old house and hired a maid. Carolina Karlovna Pavlova died on December 2, 1893 in complete oblivion. She was buried at the expense of a local community, selling all its property to cover costs. Born at the lifetime of E. Dashkova, Carolina Pavlova lived before the birth of A. Akhmatova and M. Tsvetaeva and eighty-day-eight years left in the world of others. In Russia, her death passed unnoticed. The police inspector found in the apartment Pavlova "Road chest containing many papers written by the letters of an incomprehensible language, and, judging by the appearance of the poems," With pure German accuracy, he sent a chest to the Russian consulate. Fortunately, the parcel reached the consulate, and from there to the present day.
At the beginning of the 20th century, an interest in her work was awakened. I remembered her at the beginning of the twentieth century Valery Bryusov, he "opened" her poems for the Russian reader, publishing several collections and returning Carolina Pavlova part of her former popularity. " Carolina Pavlova belongs to the number of our wonderful poets"," V. Ya Bryusov wrote about her. One of the poets of the Silver Age, Sophia Garnez, dedicated to Carolina Pavlova a very lyrical poem:
Carolina Pavlova
And the fields sail again - you do not see you, you do not see! -
And the dandelion is in a comfortable fluffy.
Sewel Rosink, - You do not see, you do not see! -
A broken sheet is shaking.
And the wires sing, - you do not hear, you do not hear, -
How the wires sing above the funds and how
In the distance of the hooves beat, - you do not hear, you do not hear!
And the late shot wakes Bereznyak.
July we have, January, - do not remember you, do not remember:
You have a century for a long time.
So memorially insert, - do not remember you, do not remember
No evening, no wind, no me!
Carolina Pavlova Two volumes of their writings is included in the family of Russian writers. For the most part of his poetic practice, she realized his own theoretical conviction that the verse was "a beautiful belt, tightening the thought and a harmony." Her poems, her thoughts and feelings, are witty and often sincerely sincerely sincerely sincerely sincerely sincerely sincerely sincerely shaped, "she keeps her living and desirable originality in its oldest fashion.
Carolina Pavlova
What is written by you like echo
Wheel, the invisible will be sick.
How strange it is: two people,
In general, different, but something is ...
The phrase, alarmed not for a joke:
"Faith in smiles, words or tears,
Required mind ... "
Life of poetry, old-age prose,
Century nineteenth, century twenty first,
Russian Baba Lee, Svetsky Lady,
We are loneliness - the highest measure.
Life is waiting. Life without Adam.
Lika Gumenskaya
Recall the poems of Carolina Pavlova:
Yes ile not
Leaf leaf breaking
With white sprocket fields,
She whisper, entangling the flower,
What hide from people.
Superval dreaming
Sees himself answer
For heart fortune -
Will it be yes to me or not?
A lot in the heart suddenly wakes up
Unforgettable-long dreams,
Many of the chest is poured
Passionate requests and bitter tears.
But for children's prayer,
On gusts of stormy years
Heart often Provide
Pollit gracious: no!
Eye thirst for young;
Maybe they shap again
And dream of unearthly
And hope, and love.
But at the call of the visions of Paradise,
But on their sweet hello
Heart, life is amifiable,
Shuddering, palls: no!
* * *
Silent Duma rocky,
And I lived half everywhere,
Do not remember the secret forces of their own;
And awakened two or three words
In the chest gusting is happening again
And on the lips of the experienced verse.
On the challenge was escaped
All that humble the power of reason;
And fights the soul again
With their womb empty;
And for a long time I do not speak with them,
And long at night do not sleep.
* * *
We strangely agreed. Memory cabin circle
In an empty conversation,
We are like an ear, not knowing each other,
Rodality guess.
And the similarity of the soul is not a feeling of gust
When flying with the mouth of the Namobum,
We guessed, but by thought
And glimpse of the inner mind.
Walking hard with public nonsense,
Joking Misery Slis
We suddenly curious, attentive eyes
Looking at each other in the face.
And each of us, chatter and joke
Successfully live them all,
Heard in the other his arrogant, terrible,
Child Spartan laugh.
His did not try to find
All the evening together we talked hard,
Holding your sadness locked up.
Not knowing, it will have to see again,
Inadvertently eager yesterday,
Truthfulness strange, brutally, severely
We have a string led until the morning,
The usual all insulting understanding
How the enemy is merciless with the enemy, -
And silently each other and firmly like brothers
I shook your hand then.
Among the worries and in the crowd of that desert,
His dreams leaving me,
Have you been able to remember now?
Covenate you did not forget if the day?
I thought, tell me, you are now again,
That with faith I am a nursery, in this hour,
From your hands, you are ready to get ready,
Do you stop without fear?
What will holy that moment is before God's providence,
When the soul is deeply loved,
With the involuntary will say conviction
My soul is someone else's: I believe in you!
What is this ray, sent from Paradise, -
What fate is no expensive, -
As in the stone I spit lively,
In the cooled will sleep the chest;
What will not destroy burning burden
In it, this secrecy is unearthly;
That does not elapse this seed
And the other will bloom in the country.
Did you remember how I, with the noise of the ball,
Did you feel silent?
How hurt the heart treated
How proudly flashed fires?
Applied over all the alarm
In your life I took my life,
Lit is the minute
Medium changed county?
Yesterday, the sheets of wasping tom ...
Yesterday wasponed
I got to me - I looked at them;
Forgotten whispered suddenly familiar
And my whole spring was remembered.
That were you, native non-residents,
My dreams caressing the answer;
That were those cherished pages,
Where children's tears I remember the long-time track.
And I flashed through the years
Childish, magnificent world;
High beliefs shine
And my first, outstanding my idol.
So, it became, and in the life of robberry
We must go through the same sad way,
Throw everything, alas, as a gift is insignificant,
What we like treasure in your own chest!
And I left my chimeras,
I go ahead, I look in a mute distance;
But it is a pity to me that is inexhaustible faith,
But sometimes you feel sorry younger!
Who will live in the shower of steel dreams?
Who dreams will give them a charm again?
Who is resurrected in them by Marquise Posy?
Who will give me love for ghost? ..
Laterna Magica.
Introduction
Marah leaf, condemned by a ring
My poems sometimes thinking;
Mobile Soviet, with its cold sense,
Dangerous and strict judgment.
Like the Roman, you can not sing meetings with wolf
Nowadays, Ile Death Sparrow.
Passed the century, and we all walked
We look more seriously;
About sadness of the soul, about light eden
Sust in secret only children dabia.
Everything is led, all themes of themes,
That neither write - all the snapshot and old.
So now doubt one me
He came to mind: I'm afraid, in my storm
They will find the taste of "Domika in Kolomna"
Readers, il "fairy tales for children";
But deep into the souls glanced to me
And much suddenly waking up the clauses.
And thoughts like a frisky chorus of mermaids,
It is flashed again, then go back to the bottom;
Dreams, their spells are deaf and pitiful;
I got to bother with their swarm for a long time.
Here roofing a row, overnight rules and a checkk,
Here is a gray house, - and I look out the window.
And a woman is visible there young
Through the twilight of an unauthorized day;
The poor fever is sitting behind a cup of tea,
Pensive head tilting
And whisper, and sighaceous,
I tell me: "Understand you!"
Expert; I will enter into a new acquaintance,
I will enter into mental relationship with you;
Love is the victim you, Ile's treachery,
Ile just dream of your own, -
Let's explain everything: I write not for offspring,
Not for the crowd, but for anyone.
Know, destined to otherwise
And written them, visible on the genus,
To betray your priceless summer
Unnecessary and stupid work;
Wear in the shower mad heat poet
For yourself and others on trouble.
* * *
But sad think that in vain
There was a youth of youth.
In our age of a valet,
Merchant business
Three souls went on tested
In the earth's limit.
And he is the news of the Lord of the will:
"In a foreign land
Each each will share
And the court is different.
Lights inspiration holy
I give you;
You will be delighted with your word
And the power of dreams.
Mlata chest will fill each
In the edge of the earth
Understand the truth, clean thirst,
Live beam.
And if the Spirit falls lazy
In worldly battle, -
Yes no vinita your ropy
My love. "
And on the cherished call
Then they came
Three female souls in the exile
On the path of the Earth.
One of them tried Provision
For the first time there to see the risk world,
Where, rejoicing, earthly enlightenment
Arranged his Valfazarsky feast.
She fell a lot of learning to know the unilie
All loddy and destructive power
She from the first years ordered his children's verse
To the legs of the crowd with a humble tribute to lay;
Their carry praying and penalty
In the living room, on the area of \u200b\u200bthe crowded hall,
Fun serve cold laziness,
Be the sacrifice of meaningless praise.
And with the vulgarity of the usual, irrepensive
It was attracted and she got down,
The cherished gift has become a rather son
Sainted seeds in it were cast.
About the days of good, about the former clear Duma
She now does not remember both in a dream;
And spends a life in the insane light noise,
My fate is satisfied quite.
The other threw God far
In American forests;
Told her to listen lonely
Ordered to fight her needed
Counteract fate
To guess everything yourself
To conclude everything in yourself.
In the chest tested by suffering
Store delight Fimiam;
Be faithful
And unfulfilled dreams.
And with her heavy good
She went how God was judged
Fearless Volya, hard step,
To the exhaustion of young forces.
And from a height like angel faith,
Shines in the dusk night
Star not our hemisphere
Above his grave cross.
The third is the goodness of God
She is specified peaceful way,
Bright doom she was a lot
Invested in the Mlata Chest.
The dreams in it are proud to you
Sang songs no less
And love to her from the cradle
Guarders faithfully.
Everyone is given to her oblique,
Good all given in full,
Life of inner movement,
Life of external silence.
And in the shower, ripe now,
Sad audible question:
In the best century half
What did she in the world succeeded?
What could delight power?
What did the soul tongue?
That love has accomplished her
And gust what reached? -
With the past, the deceased gift
With a formidable secret ahead,
With a useless heart heat,
With the will idle in the chest,
With a dreaming vain and stubborn,
Maybe it was better her
Shudder
Il to fueled the average steppes ...
Sad wind blows ...
Sad wind blows.
The skyscoon drawn,
And the moon does not dare
Look out of clouds;
And I sit alone,
Magnogo is thick
And not subsided
Rain noise like a key.
And in the shower sad
Numbness
Standing breasts
And gives me
As if everything is in vain,
What we ask passionately
What, melting clearly,
Manites us in a dream.
As if the medium of unrest
Ray generations
Clean motivations
Does not mature fruit;
As if all sacred
In the heart of a young one
As on the bottom of the sea,
With nothing!
Not time
Not! in this life desert
Although I fell in spirit again, -
Not! It's not even now
Keep thought and silence.
Still shine before me
Luminous truth and good;
I'm not still a soul;
It's not time to leave.
Still in me love is pretty
To meet earthly evil
So that everyone is demolished that the heart is painful,
And everyone forget that it is hard.
Let me sat down "tomorrow" again,
How Lgalo "Today" and "Yesterday":
Suffer and tomorrow I am ready;
It's not time to live gentressive.
No, it's not time! Although hard burden,
And the steppe of the dechah and difficult way
And I want to lie down for a while
Carolina Pavlova Born in Yaroslavl, but childhood, starting from the one-year-old age, held in Moscow, where her parents moved. Father Poets Karl Ivanovich Janis - German, by education, the doctor, professor of physics and chemistry at the Moscow Medical and Surgical Academy - provided daughters a beautiful home education. Very capable, she perfectly owned foreign languages, was very read in Russian and world literature, it was not bad. Early began writing poetry.
Body in adolescence in salons A. P. Elagina and KN. Zinaida Volkonskaya, Carolina Yanish became known for the circle of writers with his verses and translations of the works of Russian poets into foreign languages. In the salon, the Volkonian nineteen-year-old girl met the Polish poet Adam Mitskevich, who was in the link in Russia, took his lessons of Polish. Mitskevich made her an offer, but the engagement was upset due to the disagreement of her relatives. Mitskevich soon left abroad. Meeting with him played a big role in the spiritual life of poetess, carried away the love of Mitzkevich to the end of his days. The first printed speech of Carolina Yanish was published in Germany (Dresden-Leipzig) the book of original German poems, translations from Russian poets - Pushkin, Baratynsky, Language and translations of Russian songs into German (1833). There are information that the translations of Russian poetess approved before the emergence of them in the press Goethe and wrote a letter to her. Later, a similar collection of it, which includes translations from Russian, German, English and Polish poets to French, was printed in Paris.
In 1837, Carolina Karlovna married Belletrist N. F. Pavlova, glorifying his "three stakes." At first, the family had a way. Pavlov's literary salon at the end of the 30s and early 40s was considered the most famous and crowded in Moscow. Aksakov, Gogol, Granovsky, Grigorovich, Herzen, Baratinsky, Kireevsky, Fet, Polonsky and other writers appeared here. Pavlovoy was dedicated to the poems Baratinsky, Vyazemsky, languages, Mitskevich. K. Pavlova began to be printed in Russian magazines: In 1839, her poem was placed in the "domestic notes", named in Belinsky's beautiful "reviews. In addition to poems, she printed a tale of "double life" in 1847, where poems and prose were intermitted. In the image of a young girl, the heroine of the story, Pavlova showed the negative aspects of secular education, the opening of the internal, psychological features of their biography.
In the early 50s, the unrestrained card game N. F. Pavlova, who allowed the unacceptable acts and the wise state of Janis, put a family on the ruis of ruin, and the spouses were separated. N. F. Pavlov was expelled to Perm, Carolina Karlovna and his mother and his son leaves to Derpt, then to St. Petersburg and abroad. In 1858, she returned to Moscow and spending the summer there, forever left his homeland and visited it only once, in 1866. The decision to leave Russia has arisen under the influence of the incompleteness of the old acquaintances, the persecution of creditors and speeches of democratic criticism, much condemned in the work "ambitious poetess. In addition, its glory in Russia is clearly Mercles, and the final book of her poems, published in 1863, was met without Any enthusiasm. Setting up in Dresden, Pavlova worked hard; it became friends with the poet A. K. Tolstoy, translated his poet of his poems, the drama "Death of John Grozny" and "Tsar Fyodor John", the poem "Don Juan" and Top delivered him He lived his lonely old age, because of the lack of funds for urban life, in the town of Klostrevitz near Dresden. Died on the 86th year of life; he was buried at the expense of the local community, selling the unconscious property of the deceased. In Russia completely forgot it by that time.
The origins of Pochlo Pavlova poetry are connected with the Russian romantic school of the 30s, with the work of language, Baratynsky, Lermontov. The poetess is developing the genre of Message and Elegy, the form of a storyal ballade-fiction poem or "story in verse" ("fire", "old woman", "RudOkop"), she persistently puts out the chief chief, writes about the high soul, the poet, opposing their spiritual world Environmental reality and as if transforming it. The struggle of passions, the theme of the internal contradictions of the person is painted in Pavlov's poetry tragically. Her lyrics encloses a wide range of motives: a dispute of doubt with faith, disappointment with hope, an argument of replacing each other generations, strict life lessons, the fate of a woman. In the late 50s and early 60s, in the cycle of poems dedicated to the painful novel with a Derptian lawyer, subsequently, Professor, B. I. Udin, poetess speaks about the loneliness of souls, unable to overcome him even in love. Skepticism fes from poems K. Pavlova is not historical themes. Infinitely loving poetry, she finds vigorous, life-affirming notes, only singing creative work, inspiration. Full of accurate and deep psychologist Late her poems ("You, who survived in the heart of the poor", "about the past, about the dead, about the old one), where she was renounced from some inconsistency and romantic symbols of former poems, began to write easier and mental.
Carolina Pavlova is a poet of great skill, a large range. Her verse Belinsky called one day "diamond". "Lyrics of the Women's Heart" in the poetry of the XIX century received in her work, maybe the most complete and significant embodiment. A discreet, dry-meager style of many of her poems comes ideally from the Baratynsky, which she considered his teacher. According to his ideological-political views, Pavlova adjoined the camp of Slavophiles, although they called them to unite with Wessengers.
* * *
Will the wind in the steppe huge, and snow falls. There is a dear dark poor man. In the heart of the joyful faith, the surroundings are crashed angry, and they hung hard, gray clouds above the ground.
Countess Rostopchina (as your heart ...)
How does your heart inspired such a step to your heart? Her favorite is not you so peacefully flourished here? You should not bust the pride to lead to the hula of your country: even though the St. Petersburg Countess, - you are born Muscovite. When it was not in the old town of this first to the world looked at you, perhaps they were not a poet now on the shores of the Neva. Moscow was a blessing, your dreams were played in it; Although Petersburg Countess, - you are born Muscovite. Jiele of Moscow is the first-heartable you are dead and bought a marvelous look! Previously, at least the memory of the unwitting, doesn't your eye bend? Ul for the heart there is a desert, where the days of his spring rushed? Although Petersburg Countess, - you are born Muscovite. Ile your doom without burning, love you in the soul not enough, you were covered with a native seven-year-old Kremlin? Here is the spirit of the Russian shrine, Living Vera Starina; Here, the St. Petersburg Countess, you are born Muscovite.
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
Yes ile not
Behind a leaf leaf breaking with a white sprocket fields, she whisper, entangling the flower, thu about hide from people. A superstitious dream sees a response to his heart fortune - will yes me or not? A lot in the heart suddenly wake up an unforgettable-long dream, a lot of breasts are poured by passionate requests and bitter tears. But at the children's prayer, on the gusts of stormy years, the heart often pushes graciously: not! Eye thirst for young; Maybe they shap again and dream of unearthly, and hope, and love. But at the call of the visions of Paradise, but in their sweet hello to their heart, life is rejoiced, shuddering, palls: not!
* * *
Yes, there were a lot of us, infant girlfriends; In the children's holiday we will, we happen, and our joy thundered a long room, and with a ringing laughter, our circle parted. And we did not believe neither sadness nor the troubles, there was a crowd of Svetloca to meet life; Brushed the world is luxurious and broad, and everything that was in it belonged to us. Yes, there was a lot of us, - and where is the bright swarm? .. Oh, each of us recognized the life of the burden, and there is a time for the time, and remembers himself, as if someone else's.
Carolina Pavlova. Poem. Moscow: Soviet Russia, 1985.
Two comets
We flow in consent and the world, shining a joyful beam, the starry family on the air with its specified path. But two comets of those slim choices are not as an example; They are not warming them with the sun, is not sisters of serene spheres. And in the sky, they met sadly, among the Skitnya of their own, two irretrievable shining and understood their relatives. And, maybe from the north and from the south leads their secret love in space to seek each other again, greet each other again. And, in the row, they are flowing out again with fate, will come closer for a moment than all worlds among themselves.
Song of love. Poems. Lyrics of Russian poets. Moscow, Publishing House of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Central Committee of the TsK, 1967.
Duma (when in a discord ...)
When, in a divorce with himself, my mind is shipped, when it lies on it sometimes a sad-idle half, "then he whites suddenly with a sneaking, then he sounds in his chest of some feedback of the sad and sweet distant feelings, distant days. It's a sorry for an unprecedented me again, the surrounding of the coming me is empty: the ghost flashes, the word will drop, and a vain sigh will be angry with mouth. But suddenly at an hour of the Doom, in an hour to sadness a dear, taking the right to the Grozny, the soul of tired and lazy finger to be touched. And in secret force, forever young, my spirit will answer for the call; Others in it will wake up strings, the other will rise in it in it. I look in the face I am a strict life and know that we are not afraid of the eternal anxiety to the fight the hard name of Volina; And that not in vain the heart loves the environment of sorrowful concerns, and that not everyone will destroy, and that not everything will take it.
Notes: The poem is associated with memories of A. Mitskevich and a memorable day on November 10.
Poets of 1840-1850s. Moscow-Leningrad, Soviet Writer, 1962.
Duma (more than once I ...)
Without once, I ask himself strictly, and in the soul I look myself; Desires in it already laid a lot, and much inflicts fate. And I remember, having missed how in life we \u200b\u200bare about early, abundant spring, and the day after day to children's edge foggy descends the veil. But with every MGHL, an unknown force mysteriously falls in my chest, as the heavenly lights shine clearly everything than the night with a circle of the dark. I believe that young hopes will be fulfilled, even in the sample friend, that an hour will come, where we will open the immigrants that everyone we will come to mete; What is false in us powerlessness and embarrassment that will give our fruit to us every fallen color that all struggle in the soul is reconciling that every question is the answer.
Notes: The poem, intended for the first issue of the magazine "Moskvatyan", was forbidden by censorship, saw, apparently, freezing in words: "What the young hopes will be fulfilled ... that it will give us every fallen color." A. S. Khomyakov, A. V. Veshenitinov, wrote about the censorship ban on this poem: "... censorship the abyss of good crossed out and such innocent, which can not be understood, as you could not miss. For example, the glorious poems of Pavlova, cumming up with verse, are not missing: "And every question is the answer" "(A. S. Khomyakov. Full. Coll. Op., Vol. 8. M., 1904, p. 74). He himself says about the censorship difficulties with the first issue of the journal, and his editor - replaced by M. P. Pogodina I. V. Kireevsky - in a letter to V. A. Zhukovsky dated January 28, 1845 (see I. V. Kireevsky. Full. Cons. Op., vol. 2, 1911, p. 235).
Carolina Pavlova. Poem. Moscow: Soviet Russia, 1985.
Duma (I converged and disengaged ...)
I converged and disengaged with many in the earthly way; Without times, the dreams shared, more than once I pelvila: "Sorry!" But I already stood before the foggy of the foursome; And the cold one was the word, empty OTZ sin empty sleep. And each deprived meeting me a prize buti, and I did not call the score back of anyone. And they were sad for them, it was sad, it was sad on my own that hearts joyful strength will give way to life; What does not descend from the goddess skyscla pin to the residents of the earth; What we all, with the heat of Ixion, take the cloud and smoke. I was painful and sad that the smile and a tear lies, and what we hear is hezing, and what we look into the eyes. And I meet, I do not argue with him, now being existence; And sorrow of the junior grief me indifferent to me.
Notes: For the first time - "Rauta. Literary collection in favor of Alexandrian children's shelter. " Ed. N. V. Sushkova, KN. 3. M., 1854, p. 198, without title. 1. Ixion (Greek Myth.) - Tsar Flygiev; On the feast at Zeus pursued his wife, Gera, to which she was pursuing passion, but was deceived by Zeus, who submitted to him instead of a cloud in her image. Then I creation was punished with eternal flour in the underground kingdom - chained to a rotating fiery wheel.
Carolina Pavlova. Poem. Moscow: Soviet Russia, 1985.
Duma (I'm here again ...)
I'm here again, under the Senyu, where I knew so much quiet dreams: And I listen to the whisper I am again familiar cedars and birch; And, as the last spring, rushing again from afar above their engaged head for the clouds clouds. And you again rush past, about the shadow of my best dreams! Again in the melting, the playful plays the verse; Again, subsided unrest jet lives in the chest, and many dooms and inspirations, and a lot of songs ahead! Do they hurt them? Will I get boldly, where did God judge go to go? Alas! The neighborhood of emptying, OTZ syou have smalcked on the way. Not in time the poems of whims, the poets dance disappeared, and the wind is nothing more magical sounds. I had to be silent with dreams cherished; Why the one who is a spirit of nurse, to disturb now in the word in a vain silent world of holy cemeteries! ..
Notes: FROM Gireevo., near Moscow, the countryside (in the 40s. Pavlov lived there in the summer), are connected with Pavlova memories of meetings with N. M. Language and E. A. Bratynsky, which she sent a message from here (Languages: "Greets again. . ", 1842; Baratynsky:" Summary, that in the edge of a distant ... ", 1842). In the last verses "Duma" we are talking about early died Pushkin, Lermontov, Language.
Russian poets. Anthology in four volumes. Moscow: Children's literature, 1968.
E. A. Baratynsky (happened, that in the edge ...)
It is happening that in the edge of the distant south of the south, the son of the flower saw a lonely, flower of the decens of the valleys. And the wanderer suddenly remembered again, forgetting the cold country, the limit of a distant, native pruburate spring. I remembered, maybe a moment of flying, a moment of benefactor, when he dug a mighty, that experienced fragrance. So these sent by you, the sweetheartes were alive, as if you were, my squeezing dreams. The latter, the dead meeting was remembered by a conversation: all inspirational speeches of minutes of those full of being! For thoughts, the thought was rushing, playing, words, riding, sounded in the way: like ice from the river from the sun of May, glasses with the soul all the secular consideration. Me you n butwisched by the poet, my verse carelessly love, and I, bent of your light, then believed in myself. But Holy Lira is heavy! Immortal flame bedrooms, the above-mentioned spirit from the heights of the ether will fall, insane Phaeton! But you, who did not change the charm of graceful dreams, nor poetic power, nor the clarity of the Dum, nor the slightness of words, - Keep the fever of a beige! Yes, the chain of all life worries dreams of happy and free, the dream of the poet does not bother! In the music of the sonorous size excess feelings, bevelon again; The gift, giving, like faith, inexplicable like love.
Notes: It is written in connection with the receipt of the Twilight poems from the Baratic collection (1842). A few other works of Pavlova are connected with Baratynsky ("Calling us ...", dedication to "Kadryli", translations of five of his poems, including a passage from the poem "Ball", into German). Baratynsky dedicated Pavlova poem "The album is like a cemetery." 1. Phaeton (Greek Myth.) - Son Helios, God of the Sun. I failed to cope with the horses harvested in the father's chariot, he approached it to the ground that caught fire. To save the land, Zeus killed the lightning of the chapel.
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
* * *
For a grave hour, when I am expensive at the price, and, using the passage of the wine, when you stand the cold judgment, you prevaul - you can not forget how many native things came together at first; You can not remember the words of yours when your words are sternly sounded. Let's go right, let me guilty, but you will understand that in us everything is what is truly and holy, can suddenly disappear without refund, like nonsense and lies. I can wait for at least days and I had to wait a lot, although it was punished and strictly involuntary, the insane alarm of heart thunderstorms. I am able to wait, at least the chest is full of illness and evil dreams; In my soul there is pain, but there is no frightener: someday I will give a friend's hand again!
Wonderful moment. Love lyrics of Russian poets. Moscow: Fiction, 1988.
* * *
Why did the fate of the fate of us two led here, and apart leads from here again the god of the news where? Why, tell me, then only, so that it could be earthly sorry without a goal to multiply the number? To lick, shining, lighthouse and this me? So that life is a wicked joke made quite? So that everything that survived that with bitterness losses still fought boldly, smashed now? Ile so that a miracle happened? Il so that the star came up? .. Why did the fate of the fad of us two led here?!
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
* * *
Writes us life: We go, having mastered, we are all; But in a brief hour, where the thunder is adversity, and the passions are sleeping, and the sorrows of the heart of Nama, "the soul will reach among the worldly worries, and suddenly the distant Eden is flashed, and the Duma power takes place again. _________ Stopping the mountains on half, the severly sometimes throws a look: behind him flowers and May day in the valley, and in front of him - granite and winter clashes. As he, forward I look less rare, and look more back. There are a lot of things, which is not to meet again; Charming there and joy and trouble; There is a lot of beloved, saint, broken by fate forever. Care all soul forget ready? Caught everything going without a trace? You have been to me - lifeless shadows, you took from me, in my spring, tribute to hot tears and sorrowful bourgeing, dead! You have been alien to me and remember, among hearty laziness, only occasionally and dark, as in a dream? You, I forgiven, sobbing, whose way I chose ruthlessly the Creator, the Holy Love is a challenger of Mladai, - you took our crown's thorns and hid the wilderness of the murderous edge and the feat of yours, and your sad end. And where you carried our sufferment, where you were in the unspecified melancholy, "maybe not in the hearts of the memories, there is no name on a coffin board; We passed the year - and I see without attention, I'm on my hand. And how with you, then I passed to me that I had other strongests that I could love, not forgetting, and twenty years sadded as twenty days. And the shadow gets up in front of me the other sadder, perhaps, and yours! Svetled, far grave! And over you rushed out of summer! And in my dreams of my female strength, in my struggle, the sad vanity; And as you, the child, she killed, - kill me a crazy dream. In the night silence, you ended the life of sadness; I would not forget about death! That night, two or three sufferers surrounded the sled exhaustive bed; Smalc sighing it, solved hardly; And there I was waiting for my homeland, and mother. You're young to go under the grave of Rock! The delight of Holy back in you boil; In the coming MGL, your gaze was looking for good paths and durable affairs; You didn't recognize the routine years of a cruel lesson, "Your lot is blessed! Blessed! - even though you close to the exile of the immigrants! To the mete of one you walked non-flash; So, the cross reaches the shuffled clothes, they walked the knights in Saint Yerusalim, hit the thunder, the goal of hope was fallen in the dust, but before fell expensive Pilgrim. Another other! - Heart anxiety, how sensitively you sleep! - Yes, another one! - Child Harold Rights: Alas! There are too many of them, even though they are so little! - But sometimes who did not fail a hard one and not understand, pale, head? Not one we buried the poet! Fate is destroyed in color of days; It first fell; - Messenger memorial me! And another ranked after her: he was successful again was a shot of a pistol. But your death in my chest fell hurts. And if the favorite of inspiration, which disappeared, as a light ghost of sleep, you, sorrow, did not bring his commemorations? And me e. I had to call you, Eugene, and tribute verse I will give you one? Take her in this hour cherished, take it when they are silent. Alas! Why shine through the darkness colorless experienced feelings of prnouncing lights? Why impulses and nonmeton, and vain? Who caused you, my young days? What, a pale face, go back from the back and are you in me your fixed gaze? Calm me; We went without a hint; What are you here, who has left for a long time? Leave me! - Beliet day from the east, let the ghosts disappear a sad choir. Belieta day, the stars quit the swarm diamond, calling to work and requires a case; It is time to accomplish your way uncontrolly, and everyone forget that life has overlooked, and cut the Duma from Hop, and the trace of dreams again shake with the chela.
Carolina Pavlova. Poem. Moscow: Soviet Russia, 1985.
I. S. AK [Sako] Wu (at the watch meditation and doubt ...)
All started will happen, the trace will disappear. In the watch of meditation and doubt, when the mental laziness is sometimes with the soul, - I'm looking at the greeted generations with a sad dream. And I piercely pray for these fiery ignoramus; Their condemnation is so strictly, there are so many convictions in them, so much will and hopes! And maybe the hand will fall on the topic without time, and this tribe will disappear, as a god abandoned seed on the soil of stone and sand. There are many serious foreshadows, cool many are the minds, whom the thought, in our century consciousnesses, does not recognize the saints of alkanias, stubborn faith and children's dreams, and, embedded with earthly science, the gift disappeared in them; And the look of them, now a minor, for them is a sufficient lead that the stars of the heavens go out. But we look at the stars of the sky, on the world of eternal volume, but in us the holy Treka, and not everyday bread for life, we are waiting for God. And even though the good of the Good Fruit will not come for us, - it will be needed to others again, and the Word will hold back when there would be no hope. And we whose Niva did not ripe the harvests, and we will meet our lot, let it be faith - our business, suffering - our grace.
Notes: Aksakov Ivan Sergeevich (1823-1886) - Poet, publicist, one of the largest ideologues of Slavophilics of the 60-80s., Son of the writer S. T. Aksakova. In October 1846, I. S. Aksakov made a poem "to the portrait" ("Look! The crowd of people frowned ..."), which was printed in the same collection in front of Pavlova's poem
Carolina Pavlova. Poem. Moscow: Soviet Russia, 1985.
K *** (in the crowd of demanding cold ...)
In the crowd, you carew cold, as in someone else's edge; I look at your impulse of the busty, your idle longing. I owned this pain and me in my disturbing years; And now, maybe I sometimes still not alien to her. Why, among the spiritual laziness, dangerous to the game? Why are childish penalties, the fate of the other? Silent, insane! In vain do not cause your dreams! All you require so passionately, you would throw up with a sigh. Do not believe in a sweet fuel, honor of the incomprehensible arbitrariness! Who is written in vain, not the poorer, perhaps who found.
Notes: The poem, according to E. Kazanovich, is facing the poetess to herself that he is partly confirmed by his first-line title "K.S.", which can be deciphered: "To yourself."
Carolina Pavlova. Poem. Moscow: Soviet Russia, 1985.
* * *
To the grave of that cherished, do not come dull, in which the power of all life thunderstorm will be mixed. Rejecting crying I'm vain, your flowers and penalties; Why is there two roses, two tears? ..
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
* * *
To you now I am drawing the Duma, sinless, even sad, - to you! I carry the soul to the land far to me and to me alienated for a long time. So many years have passed, - and days of adversity, and joy met days more than once; So many years, - and more than the years, the events change us. We were not parted with you! We broke up, - do you remember whether the poet? - And the happiness of the gift was proposed by the fate; Yes, maybe, maybe - and no! Who reached you, about bright vision! About proud, decisive dreams? Who kept a minute inspiration? And ray dawn, and a sea wave current? Who was not stood? frightened and neo, before the idol won your own? ..
Notes: The poem is dedicated to A. Mitskevich.
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
K. S. AK [Sako] Wu (Himself, no matter ...)
Oleg and Svyatoslav himself glorified himself, the descendants did not leave their own rights. And I think that they are not needed by Notebook. So, Varyagam now I decide to refuse. I will now say on the conscience that, dust in myself, the hummier, you can tell them to be a story until September.
Carolina Pavlova. Poem. Moscow: Soviet Russia, 1985.
* * *
When one, among the Syrian steppe, fell a pilgrim on a painful path, "there may, maybe there are some oaks, but it's not to reach it. There is, maybe there in the resignation of the pilgrim of the coolness of palm trees and the stream of jet alive; But he lies in the sand real estate ... He was long walking the dear fatal! He cheerfully walked and, in a distressed desert, no time falling, repeatedly got up again with prayer, with hope; But now it has come, - he has no strength to get up. Around him glitters the sand boundless, in his mechanics weeding water stock; In a mute desert, with the sky adjacent, he, who dares, looks for the last time. And the sun ray, burning from the sunset, burns yellow dust; and the steppe is silent; But here - there is something there, there the shadow lies someone else and is nearing, - and the person goes to the false one with a sad look - the throat of their two suffering is related, - as a friend he sits down with him near and in the Cup Water pours for him; And submits; But only a little drink he is saving to give: he is a traveler himself: his way is long, and his sister and his mother waiting at home. He got up; And he, he grabbed his hand, in a death hour, then the whole grievous flour expresses me, all the sorrow of fruitless work: everything that he has suffered a soul that he proudly hid in his chest, all that he left behind him, everything What he was waiting for, madman, ahead. And as always he believed in an hour of salvation, the medium of the loud troubles, in the ruthless edge, and all his vain boosters, and all their love in vain. I press your hand so you for a farewell hour, I say today I am with you. I found me in the desert you are a sadly struggled fight. And approached, with the care of his brother, you are to the suffering and gave her everything that could; In someone else's wilderness, we hurt the sacred, - separations us now comes. Get up, friend, and let go again; It will come to you, in the silence of emptiness, perhaps, the sound of a weakening call; But you go, and do not confuse you. You have a work, you have a lot of things; Not everyone can help; Walk straight; Long your road, and at home is waiting for my sister and mother. Be hard your spirit, your work is honest, to accomplish your duty, and - God's gods! And do not disturb you the idea that someone stayed there abandoned in the steppe.
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
Lampade from Pompeii
From the terrible storms, from the disasters of the edge, from the merciless of the centuries you, the lamp is simple, saving your ash cover. Study, the treasure is modest and cherished, eloquently before me, - you are a strange, twenty-dollar witness of the glority of the earth! Light in Pompei is a ray of your pale with a cozy shelf, in a quiet hour, and above the pagan fence shone, perhaps, he is more than once, when one, with a smile gentle, with a tear of heart completeness, she souls his rebellious caressing secret dreams. And in the changed universe, in denominations began everyone, only the immortal law altered in force constantly resistant. And you can, the rest of the harvester times, now again shine over the smile and the same tears lick.
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
* * *
Changing long speeches, when we sit in the evening alone and the quiet us with you, - in thought, I look at the sad eyes, I sometimes look at you. And I, depending on, sigh ready, and I want to tell you: why do you have a young erase with a young eraser? Why are you a brilliance of an invalid gaze to hide from me as if glad? And how do you suddenly silence the environment of the conversation suddenly and laughing the nefple? That thought, solved by me, that thought, whose ropot does not bother, give the thought to meet me and mercy sister let me touch your wounds!
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
* * *
Young hopes and beliefs how much I survived! How many joyful visions dispelled wind, covered the blades! And the strength of the Duma, and the rapidity of the zeal in the chest of my chest. You, with a clear look Cherubim, the daughter of the sky, hearts are not disturbing! As a shadow suffers joy by, and lies hope. Why so this shadow is necessary? And so all the whole is this lie? Alas! I cope with myself; I live with others on a par; But Libems are wonderful, I can not not solve me in a dream. Where to go to me with soul! Where to go with my heart to me! ..
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
* * *
My Duma was silent, and I lived half my life, I do not remember the secret forces of my own; And they awakened two or three words in the chest gusting was again and on the lips were a verse. The challenge was enthusiastically all that humbled the power of reason; And the soul is fighting again with their womb empty; And for a long time I am not sorry with them, and do not sleep for a long time.
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
Moscow
Day of quiet dream, day gray and sad; In the sky, clouds are unstinking the blades, and in the air, the ringing is incented, the Moscow ringing into all the bells. And, caused by the Svoboda Self-instep, she fell up unexpectedly at this hour another hour I was another, "then there was a clear evening, and on the horse I rushed around the fields. Fast! Fast! And, at the edge of stopping the obedient horse, I looked at the prostitutes of the valleys: I was dusty, they already concerned them already shine. And the city there is a salad and cathedral, spreading wide in width, shone downstairs, noitely, and something suddenly waking up in me. Moscow! Moscow! What's in the sound of this? What is the cordial review in it? Why is it so applied with the poet? So he is dominated over a man? Why gives me that before us in you all rus is waiting for anyone? Why shiny eyes, Moscow, I look at you? Your palaces are sad, your glitter Ugas, your voice, and there is no secular strength or loud affairs, nor the lot of terrestrial. What are the secret understanding so in the heart of Russian lay down, what are the arms stretch when you whole are away? Moscow! In the days of fear and sadness, keeping sacred love, no wonder we gave our life for you, we are our blood. No wonder in the battle of the giant, the people came to fold the chapter and fell into the plain of Borodino, saying: "Verify, God, Moscow!" The good was this seed, it carries his lush color, and the young tribe will save the father's gift, love covenant.
Notes: For the first time - "Rauta. Literary collection in favor of Alexandrian children's shelter. " Ed. N. V. Sushkova, KN. 3.
Russian poets. Anthology in four volumes. Moscow: Children's literature, 1968.
Butterfly
What does your fad want? Where, the moth young, nature is a brilliant miracle, you got to the Lazari native? I did not know my appointment, there was a long dust of the dwelling; But the second birth time came for you at last. I put the same clean ether, Goulayy in Heavenly Dali, Put the lively sapphire, live, not touching the Earth .- didn't you come true with you? Isn't it, the artist, and you were shoving the life of the Mole, was the worm of earthly grindiness? The surroundings of the sad miracles have come to the sadness as well: you suddenly expanded the wings, I learned myself the son of heaven. Leaving the earthly monastery and the fate of the intake of the Moth; Free, like him, celestial, look at the ground from high!
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
* * *
We are contemporaries, Countess, we are both daughters of Moscow; Tech young days, fussing slave, because you have not forgotten and you! By Bairona lived in Glory and Pushkin is a hesitarian verse; Yes, we are almost alone, the right, but the calls are not alone. I love Moscow, I am peace and stupus, in the silence I hinder a modest work, and I just give my husband my poems for a strict court. You are in St. Petersburg, in a noisy share of themselves, live without barriers, you are transferred by the will of the edge to the edge, from hail in degrees; Beauty and Georges-stardist, you are not singing for Moscow river, and you, free artist, no one has crossed out the strings. My life is different: I live at home, in the limit of close and relatives, I am a stranger, I am a stranger, and I'm unfamiliar to me. For all the capitals of different nations, I did not stroll, I do not demand emancipation and unauthorized life.
Notes: The poem reflected the hostility of Pavlova to E. P. Rostopchina, which she condemned for the diffused secular life and violation of patriarchal family traditions. Rostopina also fifth to Pavlov's outlines. 1. See the section A. Pushkin on this site.
Carolina Pavlova. Poem. Moscow: Soviet Russia, 1985.
* * *
We strangely agreed. The medium of the salon circle, in an empty conversation, we are like an ear, not knowing each other, kinship guess. And the similarity of the soul is not like a feeling of impulse, going with the mouth of the Naobum, we guessed, but according to the thought of review and glimpse of the inner mind. Walking hard with a public nonsense, a joking littleness of a word, we suddenly curious, attentive eyes looked at each other in the face. And each of us, chatter and joking successfully live them all, was overhearding his own arrogant, terrible, a child of Spartan laughter. And, having twisted, in the soul, we didn't try to find someone else's echoes, all the evening we talked hard, holding our sadness. Not knowing, it will be necessary to see again, inadvertently staring yesterday, with the truthfulness of strange, severely, we have a string led to the morning, the usual all insulting to understand how the enemy is mercilessly with the enemy, - and silently each other, and firmly, like brothers, I shook hand then.
Notes: This poem conveys the complexity of the relationship of poetess with B. I. duck. 1. Child Spartan Laughing ... - Mention of an ancient Greek legend about the Spartan boy who hidden a fox and did not want to admit this, although his body gnawed. Protecting resistance.
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
N. M. I [Zyko] Wu (medium of idle noise ...)
The average of the idle human noise suddenly, like an invisible cherub, flies quietly tea-thought sometimes towards his beloved. And whispers, reviving everything that has long passed in full. I did not agree with her unexpectedly, and here, familiar, she is on the day of the wonderworker Nicholas again to me and, much reminding, it turns out about the old days - like a pedestrian unworn with difficulty to achieve the path of holy, I was given a slender and a spoonful wheel . And your gift to the shore I, and remember your cheerful verse. Praise the days! Divorced Kochuya, and you did not forget them. Everything changed; The tenants are alien, since then you have told us your transition through Apennins to Italyansky shores. But that country, where the heart of the house, non-gas rights in it: And you, having heard: "Ecce Roma!" , Sighed, maybe: "Where is Moscow?" And again, you came to her with love of a nursery after a hard year, not that singer is good, but the chosen one and the poet; But everything is on the secular waves looking with spiritual height; But believing due to inspiration and in the holiness of songs and dreams; But the days of young are not rejecting, but in the battle of the spirit of wealth. So let me have another, but not the apostate and me. Corresponding to the Days of Dawn and now remembering the past, let the holiday of the poet's birthday I will meet with verse.
Notes: He is a direct response to the language of language "when brutally sick ..." and "I praise you for what you ...", belonging to April 18 and 21, 1844, the message of Pavlova, as seen from the text, written 9 May (Art. Art.) On the day of the Language and is the answer and congratulations. 1. Wheel spoon - Gift language, a wooden spoon, brought from the Trinity-Sergius Monastery. 2. Ecce Roma. - This is Rome (Lat.).
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
N. M. I [Zykov] y (no! I could not ...)
Carolina Pavlova. Poem. Moscow: Soviet Russia, 1985.
N. M. Language (incredible and unexpected ...)
Answer Incredible and unexpected flew to me singer Hi, as a laurel leaf is flavored, as southern countries wonderful color. There you are now - there, I happened, I was asked to ride and I, and I flew my soul into those grateful edges. But the gift does not pass time, it brought me his fruit, and the burden of the burden I dropped the burden from my heart for a long time. And I reconciled with Moscow, with frayment of laziness and snow: everywhere there is a sky above the glaze, everywhere there are many sweet dreams; Everywhere the stars pass by, everywhere love them everywhere, everywhere the soul is neurotic in the struggle will be angry empty. About Rome now does not grow, Moscow will compare not harming, poems here are Russians I am writing with the noise of Russian rain. Having left the modest capital for the semi-region fields, I gate from Sokolnikov in Nice a tribute to my gratitude - the words of a heart response in the native, distant side, for the precious gift of the poet, for remembering me.
Russian poets. Anthology in four volumes. Moscow: Children's literature, 1968.
N. M. Language (welcomed by the poet ...)
Answer to answer Greeting again the poet was me, as in my spring; And the year has passed, - aware of this and conscientious, and sad to me. Year - and in the impotence of lazy soul, my soul was resting, and I did not respond to a distant voice here! The year - and my mouth did not know the harmony of consonant words, and the Duma of the happiness of Ile sorrows, faintly, did not shine the villages of the poems. They boil more often than the gift of the sky. Mlading breast: It was time for the need of a gibbing bread seemed to the sound rhymes; In those days, with excellent stanzas, more than once they glorified them when they were between us first, the happy guest of Moscow. I remember this housewarming, all this friendly, young circle, his careless fun, unlimited leisure. How much to accomplish everyone wanted to the good one old old! Everyone was shifting to the right goal, to the intangible sleep - and drank the misty. And half a day comes heat - and hearts The edge promised as a light pairs scattered! Go expensive cherished; Let the travelers sometimes hear somewhere visited, "AU" familiar for the mountain! There are not a lot of you, single-bodied, medium noise of the gorgeous fuss, knee priests in front of the cumier of beauty! And the first fell! - And in the days of the heyday, and the other go to the coffin in the coffin! .. Yes, I remember the poet of the poet at an hour of bright doom and slender affairs! Turning to the edge from the edge, through the mountains, the abyss, the wilderness and steppe, let them eat them alive, like an electric chain!
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
On the liberation of peasants
They, trying, the chain fastened the entire volume of the earth, the stron's stronger, stronger, and the brothers circled. The enslaved proud gaze they met without shame, the cry of salvation was called nonsense and said: "Never!" But I heard the sufferers of the tribe, in deep darkness of the troubles and angry, another speech: "Time will come!" And it was God's verb. __________ When in honor of the holiday, she went to Rome, a latray massacre in Rome, and in the circus, the blood flowed everything again, and having sorted, on the slope of [day], in the morning I didn't have an hour and the root of animals, and the hum of molly, and, the falsity of human meat Lions were located, "the new fun was a miserable face: the slave in that circus was bloody, giving him an egg. He went; And if, defenseless, having passed through the arena, he could put the granite on the altar, he could wear his own, - he was pardoned by the crowd: she loved this farce. He went; With a rive, lion Il Bars raised. How great was Arena! How far before the altar! The danger grew, the scene lasted, and the crowd trembled, looking. He did not dare to damage and sigh, he did not dare to move his hand; With the best jokes of the scomer, the laughter did not rise. Everywhere was a laughter without uhm, the cliques were merged with all; As a full thunder pumps stood wide decay. __________ And this roar of evil laughter has since heard more than once; And this Roman fun renews for us. In a threatening circus, a tired of some slave goes, as inserted, goes, the deposit to him handed to folded hoping for the altar. And we, as a blackfish of Blown Rome, in a racked idleness of their, look, will it be raised among ferocious animals? Over it will be rally in the crowd of an unmeptant, fulfilled the fear of his eyes: it is afraid of falling by the victim in vain, labor is not killed. Before their offense, he doesn't have a case, he does not need their honor, just to reach, if only everything is going on what he carries. He carries, persecuted, the fatal, mysterious benefit, he bears understanding the holy - freedom of future times.
* * *
More than once in the soul navigate dark things, the holy feeling survived the one, the middleness and evil; As a pillar of the destroyed temple, where the battles enlightenment, it costs one, and the surroundings of the convolution about the place of faith and prayers!
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
* * *
The sky shines turquoise, the goldstime clouds; Why did you get a little spring in the breast of longing? Is there anything that, I breathe carelessly with fresh joy, the world is a wide young forever, and only the soul age? What is all vivid, that everything is intelligent, - greens, songs and flowers, and only the heart failed to save your dreams? While that with a new force behind the spring, the spring will come and over each grave is indifferent to flourishing?
Carolina Pavlova. Poem. Moscow: Soviet Russia, 1985.
* * *
No, not your gift is sacred! No, not your pure verse! No, you will not come to the market with an inspiration! Will you dum reviews, and you will not let madness you interpret your gusts, slander your dreams. What the heart fluttered, saving you from people; You do not dispetuate you covered with your virgin soul. The secret of sad inspirations will never know; You like a ghost of dreams, sweeping without a trace. Gullen in front of the light, you will sing in the silence of nights: the guest is unnecessary in the world of this, unknown nightingale.
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
* * *
Oh was, about the dead, about the old thought is a mute soul; I met a lot in my life, I spent a lot of feelings in a gift, a lot of victims brought the nepoupe. I walked again after each mistake, forgetting a cruel lesson, unarmanent in everyday errors: faith in tears, words and smiles to eat my heart could not. And the soul, the fate of the recalcitrant, the medium of adversity, who defeated me, is convinced of the success of retaining, as a player expected a stubborn day after day I am a happy day. I boldly treasure, I chased the stamp, - and stand, played in the fluff; And lucky, sitting nearby, watch the greedy, ulcer look - does the spirit solid change me?
Russian poets. Anthology in four volumes. Moscow: Children's literature, 1968.
Memory E. M. [Ilkeev]
Three centuries of Russian poetry. Compiled by Nikolay Bannikov. Moscow: Enlightenment, 1968.
Conversation in the trianone
Summer night replaced morning; Pale pearl east with a pale mother-in-law in the darkness; Foresting the stars in the sky, did not get a cheerful noise in the trianone, and the ball lasted. And in the fresh dusk boss everywhere questions and answers live whispers were shared; And in the sense of their arrows walked in the conjuncts of crowds of wrinkled marquis. But where, deeply, through the greens of the park, the lights were not so sparkling brightly, they walked, avoiding noisy meetings, at that time, under linden dense, two guests are quiet, and there were more guests between them. They did not resemble each other. They: one was the son of the south, according to the form of a strange person: a high camp, like a sword is flexible, getting closer with a cold smile. Another, row and ugly, seemed an alien to the crowd of that idle, though it would not be interpreted soon; And the goose, full of the thought of the evil, with a wave of a lionana he pouring a huge head. He said: "Time comes! Let there be a blind tribe; Suddenly, the midst of his jellies will infiltrate the heat of the roar of hungry, and before anafended folk will smell the brazen on this laughter." - "Yes, - the one, - always so it was; they triggered their rock strength, they hurry their old debt to stick to a terrible result; he collapsed in full and strictly, and the heavy day is paid. Skiming the ancient laws, the people will stand millions, bloody Term; But I know these storms, and four thousand years I remember the husty lesson. And the current generations will be shedding the Grozny Groheny, the human crowd, believe me, the count, again you will need the bonds, and they will throw the same French inheritance of the right. " "No!" I will not take up in this with you, "the count exclaimed, shifting his eyes," No! Lies are not always a celebration! I, the son of the skeptical century, I firmly believe in a person and not afraid for him. The people will grow for freedom, mature. Slow shoots, wait for the new ones, he began; a century considering a sorrowful account, he blood is his blood about Tom no wonder soil soaked ... "Salp he, the explosion of humming is futile; and that smile, a little noticeable to passionate, he answered; then, looking at the graph sharply:" It is impossible, "he said," he said, "Calinese words are loud. You can't tolerate your brothers, you remember your pain, and oppose the life evil with irresistible heat; You believe in yourself, and no wonder, Count Miraboo, in their affairs. You know that in you there is power, as a guide luminous to stand up the medium of civilian neformards; What, in the hobby forever young, their favorite and the podium will proclaim you. Yes, and he will go for you, and he will make your bones with Moloto, perhaps in Pantheon; And, newly inadane success, with a curse, maybe, he will accommodate them with laughter. Always, in his alarm of passionate, was, following the thought of clear, blind and wild arbitrariness; Always the love of his barren, he was always, alternately, Ile Lutchy Tiger, El Smart Will. The crowd I know not from now: I walked with Moses in the desert; As long as he, praying the Creator, the people carried the syrodial of the law, - the people shouted around Aaron and Lil in the madness of the Taurus. I saw the Terrible Prophet, as he, breaking the cobweb of vice, became the environment of trembling people and commanded them, full of anger, to right to cut and left fathers, and brotherhood and children. I spent ripe fun in the circus; To meet the deaths walked by the slaves of submissive long construction, the global putting power, and the loud sounded Ave! Before the fault of the crowd. I stood by the priest I was Apollo near the Kesarean throne; The cliques were merged into a raven chorus; I waited in vain waiting for the sign of the sign, - and I gave a sad eye to the dying duck. I was in distant Galilee; I saw how the Jews came together to judge his Messiah; As a reward for the words of salvation, I heard screams of across: "Cutting it! Create it!" Stood Majestic and he was, when the pale pokemon asked in Cherni, Orobiev: "Who will let you go according to the charter?" - "Let the robber brewer!" - The crowd plunges the mad roar. I saw Nero holidays; Copurion is dressed in armor, I spent a memorable day with him. He was a Popé wine, he sang poems a praise of Eney, and called the grilled Rome. I looked at the troubles of the people: without his strength to look for an outcome, with a stupid desire of the end, - Lady of the Fiery Grada, the Human died herd in the eyes of a careless singer. Passed the century above this Rome; Again, I arrived by Pilgrim to gates, familiar for a long time; On the square was the noise of the Great: it was booster, to the fun of the Wild, her intercession on the fire ... and bitter meetings I remember a lot! There was my road here; I remember how the killing of evil wins of the temple came true - the whole court of sin and convolution; I remember their hymns on fire. I am a hundred years later, I stood again in Ruan, by the fire of another: a galance of the edge was shy shamefully on it; And, madly her swearing, the people again roared around. She walked quietly, without fear, not shuddering, to the place of execution, among the curses no longer; And since, when an evil groul exploded, she looked at her people, "the head went down and passed. I lived Bartholomew night; Through the piles of the corpses, the fierce has rushed in front of me and, a new pretext I was glad, with a snatch brutal, before dropping, insanely kept stealing. I learned the screaming of blacks greedy; In her victory, merciless I saw the majority again; With me, Vataga treated each other with the meat of the admiral and the heart fried him. And in England I spent the years. In the name of Faith and Freedom, I saw how the Cromwell played all the mass of the blind one and boldly grabbed his achieved goal. I saw this spore bloody, and the court of people over the power; I saw the fallen king; And where the father died in vain, I sat with my son safely, the depraved feast of his own. And this age stands ready for the coup of the storms of the new, and the formidable fruit ripe him, and there are many supports of broken, and vain victims, and the forces of angry, and darkness will sweep. And the virgin, maybe, something else, Karaya, the valor in it in her, will inherent to the death of a sinful court; And, for his fighting faith, other, maybe the Templars their anthem on the feet sing. And your grandchildren will tell you that, revolting and hostile, you have gained in your struggle, which freedom led you, and how you had to renounce you and you. "He fell silent. - And along the East, the rays of dawn, flashed widespread And Sveley. I looked, in the refutation of speech, on the sun, a clear forerunner arrived at the future plebey. An arcoured on the thought of clutter, he waved his head boldly, - and both silently diverged. And in the sense of their arrows, walked in the crowd of crowds of frosting marquis.
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
Sphinx
Edip Sphinx, alas! He is a pilgrim and now waiting for a life path, he looks in an eye in an inexorably and he does not give anyone. As in the old days, and us, the descendants late, he, a detrimental, is now, the Sphinx of Being, with one question of Grozny, half-industrial and half amenu. And who, of us, in vain believing, did not allow the riddles of the fatal, who fell in the spirit, whether the claws of the beast were waiting for the mouth of the goddess young. And the path of the circle will donate a human blood, the bones are all littered with the country ... and to the sphinx again, with mysterious love, there are already other tribes.
Notes: Edip Sphinx - Otzvuk an ancient Greek legend about the FIV King Odipe. Returning after a long lack of homeland, he met Sphinx - Receive a half-seater who asked him a riddle: "Who walks on four legs in the morning, in the afternoon - on two and evening - on three?" Those who could not solve her, the Sphinx killed. Oedip, however, answered that this is a person who is crawling in infancy, then goes on two legs, and in old age - relies on a stick. Under the mystery of the sphinx in a figurative sense, there is a meaning of the most important and difficult life issues.
Valfasar Feast - on biblical legend, the feast of the Babylonian king Valtasar, killed during the orgy won his kingdom of Persians. ""\u003e 2. She fell a lot of learning to know the uniliest and the harmful power, she, from the first years, was ordered to put his nursery to the legs of the crowd of a humble tribute; Its praying and penalties in the life of the rumble, to serve cold laziness to serve as a hidden lounge, to be a victim of meaningless praise. And with the vulgarity of the usual, irrevocated and she got up and she got down, the cherished gift became a rattling son, stumbled in it the holy seeds. On the days of good, about the former clear thought, she does not remember now and in a dream; And he spends his life in the insane light noise, his fate is satisfied quite. The other threw God far away into American forests; Told her to listen lonely desert holy voices; She ordered to fight with her need, counteract fate, to guess everything herself, to conclude everything in himself. In the chest tested by suffering, keep the delight of Fimiam; Be loyal to vain hope and unfulfilled dreams. And with this heavy blessing, she went like God judged, fearless surplus, hard step, to the exhaustion of young forces. And from a height, like an angel of faith, shines in the dusk night star not our hemisphere over the coffin of her cross. The third - the goodness of God is listed by her peaceful way, she was a lot of bright doom in marching chest. The dreams in it are proudly asked, sang songs without a number, and love to her with the cradle of the Guardians was faithful. Everyone is given to her, the goods are all given in full, the life of the inner movement, the life of an external silence. And in the soul, the question is now, the question is heard: in the best century half that it was possible to her in the world? What could delight power? What did the soul tongue? What did love achieved her, and gust what was reached? "With a fatal, the deceased gift, with a terrible secret ahead, with a useless heart of the heart, with the will we celebrate in the chest, with a dreaming and stubborn, maybe it was better to disdurate in life. Medium steppes ...
Notes: For the first time - Sat. "Kievyanin for 1850", ed. M. Maksimovich. M., 1850, p. 212-215, with a substitution note to the title: "This poem belongs to the three women-poets born in the same year." E. Kazanovich suggests that E. P. Rostopchina is depicted in the first part of the poem. But such an assumption is refuted not only by the inconsistency of the year of birth (1811), but also the place of birth of Rostopchina (Moscow). The heroine of the poem, obviously, Parisian. It is impossible to attribute poems to Moscow: "Where, growing, the earthly enlightement arranged his Valfazar Pier." In the second part, as E. Kazanovich indicates (see ed. 1939, p. 414), depicted early american poetess Lucretia Maria Davidson (1808-1825). She was devoted to the article in the "literary newspaper" (1830, No. 19, p. 147-149). It says that Davidson promised the "new light talent that could compete with modern poets of England." In the form of the third soul is presented itself
* * *
I am not from those whom the word is always humbly, as their eyes, whose condescension is ready to change each sentence. I am not from those whose thought does not dare to take effect on my sincere speech, whose mind will be able to attract all and all the dreams to save, which so carefully own the phrase empty and, knowing that everything is falsely, everyone is looking at them.
Carolina Pavlova. Complete assembly of poems. Library of the poet. Big series. Moscow, Leningrad: Soviet writer, 1964.
by Notes of wild mistressYou, surviving in the heart of the back, hello to you, my sad verse! My bright beam over the ashes of bliss and my joys! One thing that the sacrificance touch in the temple could not: my attack! My wealth! My holy craft!
These lines belong to the woman whose name although he was lost behind the haze of the age of two centuries, but creativity did not lose their originality in the poetic area, which is referred to as the "Female Heart Lyrics".
Carolina was born on July 22, 1807 in Yaroslavl in the family of a doctor of Karl Yanish, the descendant of the Russo German. The girl was fulfilled a year when the Father offered the place of the professor at the Moscow Medical and Surgical Academy, where he began to teach physics and chemistry. Karl Ivanovich was a widely educated person, seriously engaged in astronomy and painting, knew perfectly with literature.
The professorial family began to live very modestly, after during the invasion of Napoleon, all the property lost to Moscow. Janisi lived in homes and near Moscow estates of friends or filmed hired apartments, but the only daughter was able to give a brilliant home education.
From early childhood, Carolina knew four European languages, helped her father in his astronomical observations, painted well and played the piano, read a lot and wrote poems in German and French. Finding outcomes in the field of verbal sciences, the 19-year-old young lady besides the German, Russian and French languages \u200b\u200bfluently owned English, Italian, Spanish, Latin and ancient Greek, perfectly knew world literature. In society, she walked "gifted by the most diverse and most unusual talents."
For the first time as Pheetess Carolina showed himself in 1826 in the literary salon of Elagin, where he read her poems in German. It received a complete recognition in the Moscow literary circle in the cabin 3. A. Volkonskaya. Many writers, scientists and poets admired a talented girl. She was devoted to the verses of E. A. Baratsky, P. A. Vyazemsky, N. M. Languages, A. Mitskevich.
The great German scientist and traveler A. Humboldt, having acquainted with Carolina in 1829, took with him the manuscript of her poems and transfer to German Poem Mitzkevich "Konrad Wallenrod" to show I. V. Guete himself. The great poet approved them and sent a very flattering letter to the young translator and poetess. According to his daughter-in-law, "the father-in-law has always kept this notebook at his desk."
In the cabin, Knyagini Caroline in 1827 met with the famous Polish poet Adam Mitskevich. It all started with the lessons of the Polish language, but soon the relationship of the gifted student and the mentor was rearranged into a serious feeling. Mitskevich was fascinated by Carolina, she is in love. On November 10, 1827, the poet made her an official proposal. Father did not prevent the happiness of his beloved daughter. However, against the marriage of nieces with an unsecured and politically uncommon poet, a rich uncle was made from which the Yanish family depended. The sense of duty forced the girl to abandon her happiness, but not from love.
The last time they saw in April 1829, and Mitskevich entered her album:
Having barely shuthes my fate again, I am going on the wings of joy, I quickly from the south again north, again to you!
Caroline was forgiven forever: "I thank you again for everything - for your friendship, for your love. I swore to you to be worthy of this love, to be the one you wish it. Do not allow ever thought that I could break this oath - this is my only request to you. My life may be still beautiful. I will get from the depths of my heart to the treasury of my memories of you and I will gladly go through them, for each of them is a diamond of pure water. " Date of explanation in love - November 10 - has become a sacred day for Carolina. The brightest and sad poems appeared on this day.
The feelings of Mitskevich were faded pretty quickly: in Odessa he cared for his compatriot Carolina of the Suman, and in St. Petersburg made a proposal of Tsina Shimanovskaya.
Left alone, Carolina was completely given to his poetic vocation. Creativity has become life for her. The lyric poetry of Carolina Karlovna differed not so much emotionality or expressiveness, as the penetration of feelings and reliability, artistic self-expression and knowledge of themselves and others.
The poetess developed her characteristic manner, a somewhat cold-blooded, removed, realistic and restrained, but extremely spectacular, and perfectly mastered the poetic skill. She developed a genre of a poetic message, Elegy and a kind of story in verse. Compressed, energetic, the undisguised poetic language of Carolina Karlovna is notable for non-traditional rhyme, which only the silver age was able to appreciate the full measure.
Contemporaries were tested for a bright and talented woman a complex gamut of feelings consisting of delight and irony. After all, Carolina Karlovna is not just "rumble of rhymes" in the albums, but also frankly "claimed" for the proud title of the poet and a magnificent translator, invading a purely male craft. Poetic translations became the basis of her creativity. In 1833, the collection of Yanish "Northern Lights was released in Germany. Samples of new Russian literature ", providing Germans to familiarize themselves with the work of A. S. Pushkin, V. A. Zhukovsky, A. A. Deliv M., E. A. Bratynsky, N. M. Langov, P. A. Vyazemsky, with Russians and the Malorosi folk songs, as well as with 10 original poems of the author. In 1835, the Paris magazine "Revue Germanigue" published passages from the "Orleans Virgin" Schiller, and in 1839 - the full translation of the poem into French, performed by Janish.
Working on translations, Carolina Karlovna sought to most accurately reproduce the vital features of the original: the overall sound of verse, rhythm, author's flavor. And it doesn't matter how and what language the work was translated - the individuality of the style was always preserved, be it V. Scott, D. Bayron, T. Moore, A. S. Pushkin, V. A. Zhukovsky, J. B. Moliere, F. Schiller, Gaine or V. Hugo. Yanish confidently went to the tops of mastery, and her personal life seemed to be settled.
In 1836, the "harmful" uncle died, and Carolina Karlovna became a rich bride. A year later, she married the famous Belletrist Nikolai Filippovich Pavlova (1803 - 1864). At that time, all progressive Russians were read on its social stories of "nameman", "Yatagan", "auction" (1835). It was the only creative rise of the writer. In the future, his artistic reputation falls.
At first, Pavlov contributed to the device of literary affairs spouses, but later he became jealous to her work. After all, it is for the 40s. There is a flourishing of the poetic talent of Carolina Karlovna and the greatest success - then the poem "Conversation in the Trianon" was written, which she herself considered his best, the novel in verses and prose "Double Life. Essay "and the poem" Kadril ", dedicated to E. A. Baratynsky.
And the presidents of the poetess V. Belinsky said the following: "The amazing talent of Ms. Pavlova to translate poems from all the languages \u200b\u200bknown to her and to all the languages \u200b\u200bknown to her, finally, to acquire universal fame. But even better (due to the language) its translations into Russian; Make yourself of this compression, this courageous energy, the noble simplicity of these diamond poems, diamond and fortresses, and in the gloss poetic. "
A married life has turned Carlovna Karlovna from a dreamy girl into an energetic, volitional secular lady, which pride for a long time did not allow to recognize how unhappy it is in marriage. Pavlov changed her, and soon started on the side another family. He confessed to friends, "that in his life I made one nastyness: married money," who spent on the couments and lost in the cards.
Nevertheless, Pavlovy's house became one of the best literary salons of Moscow. They were A. A. Fet, E. A. Baratsky, N. V. Gogol, A. I. Herzzen, N. P. Ogarev and many other writers. Here in May 1840 held his last Moscow evening before leaving for the Caucasus M. Yu. Lermontov.
As the owner of the salon, Pavlova sought to be in friendly relations with the writers of different directions, trying to "reconcile" the Slavophiles and Westerners. More to Slavophilas, it chose a neutral ideological position for itself, which excited the rejection of both sides.
In me, there is no feeling except grief, when a familiar voice of the singer, blind passions hopelessly, pours hatred in the heart.
All the events of life, their quest Pavlov understood in poetic lines, and, as if in the reverse order, a failed personal life turned around with a collapse for her creativity. The husband lowered all the state. In 1852, there was a complete gap between the spouses.
Due to the complete ruin, Professor Janis filed a complaint with the Moscow Governor-General, who hurried to reduce his personal accounts with Pavlov for the evil epigram. During the search, forbidden literature was found, and the writer after the debt pit was exiled to Perm.
Public opinion accused Carolina Karlovnu, I was met everywhere in the bayonets. Pavlova became uncomfortable in Moscow, and she moved to St. Petersburg, and after the death of his father - to Derpt, taking a teenage son and mother with me. As a poetess she was "thrown out" from the literary life of Russia. All its original lyrical works broke up at the level of an epocal struggle of ideas, causing ulcerative attacks not only to her, but also on those who considered Pavlov "artist and the master of the Russian word, the talent full and perfect." At the same time they criticized the translations. Belinsky reproached her that she chooses not those works for transfers.
Pavlova was terribly granted in Russia. In Derpte, she met the University student Boris Isaakovich duck, subsequently became a prominent lawyer. The difference at the age of 25 did not interfere with the friendship go to a serious mutual feeling. But, returning to his beloved person to St. Petersburg, Carolina Karlovna with pain realized that neither his heart nor in Russia there was no place for her place. In memory of him, the famous "Utinsky cycle" lyrics remained.
As a result of sorrowful thoughts during the trip in Europe, Pavlova adopted "passive" and at the same time a courageous decision - to abandon the illusions: to leave the homeland forever and leave Russian poetry voluntarily. The circumstances were stronger poeses.
Only a few events lit up for many years of voluntary expulsion. In 1859, Pavlova was elected by an honorary member of the Society of Russian Literature Amateurs, and in 1863, with the assistance of friends, the collection of her poems, having met a sharp, negative assessment in the Russian periodicals for "Motyl Academy" (one of the early poems was called "Moth", 1840) and indifference to the "Pahar Fate". Once again, joy turned pain.
Living in Dresden, and later in Klostervice, Carolina Karlovna showed an extraordinary life extract and perseverance. Strong need, she was engaged in real "sub-work" in German literature for the sake of a piece of bread. I. S. Aksakov, hovering it in 1860, with amazement wrote about the endurance and resort of Pavlova, but even condemned it: "It would seem a catastrophe, its comprehend, misfortune, a true misfortune, tested by her, - Solve , loss of the situation, name, state, the need to live work, - all this seemingly shame a lot of people, leave traces on it. There was no whit that she was absolutely the same as ... "" In the wretched Kamork of the German joiner, "where Pavlova removed the corner, many could look like, but in the soul it is not all.
Most differently, the human qualities of Carolina Karlovna A. K. Tolstoy estimated. Their acquaintance turned into close creative friendship. Pavlova translated his poems into German, the drama and the poem Don Juan. In Weimara in 1868, his drama "Death of John Grozny" was put with great success. Tolstoy appreciated the literary opinion and advice of poetess. In 1863, he overturned at the court to her retirement. No one showed no such concern about her.
Thank you! And this word be you always my hello! Thank you for what I realized that I am a poet; For all that suddenly, my breasts warmed up, for happiness to indulge in dreams, for the thrill of the mind, for the thirst of the case, for the life of the soul - thank you!
Only occasionally Pavlova drove to Russia. Dating and communications weakened, close people left the lives: Mitzkevich, Pavlov, Utin, Son. Carolina Karlovna lived his age alone. December 2, 1893 she died. The death of poetess in Russia remained unnoticed, but today her poems are perceived as a living, distinctive phenomenon of poetry.